


What the actual hell is this place?!

by writeswithfeatherquills



Series: UnderVale [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game), Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Just another AU, Right Error?, There's not enough ErrorSans on this website goddamnit, haha wHoops, what is this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 09:11:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6148666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeswithfeatherquills/pseuds/writeswithfeatherquills
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everybody makes mistakes. Some people screw up a customer's order. Some people drop an expensive vase. Some people accidentally open a trans-dimensional rift to a small desert community that eats interlopers for lunch.<br/>Haha, whoops.</p><p>(I don't even know what I'm doing with this.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	What the actual hell is this place?!

There was nothing but an empty whiteness. All around. That’s all there ever was, in here. Whiteness, and silence. Error sighed, and figured it was time to do another job.

_Back into the fray…_

He waved a hand, and small tear began to form, all hard edges and uncertain realities and pixels and the scent of _mistakes_ wafted into his pristine, white prison. Home. Whatever. Point was, there was another reality to take out.

But this one seemed different somehow, like it was… _aware_ of him. Which was weird. But, hey, he had a job to do, didn’t he? Yeah. Gotta get to work.

He stepped through the window, and was immediately hit with a wave of desert heat. Huh. This didn’t look like any town the characters usually found themselves in. He had seen everything from a 1920’s Chicago AU to literal space, but this small, desert town somehow seemed way more dangerous, sending an uncomfortable chill down his spine. He decided to just do his job, and get out of here as fast as possible. But first, he had to find Frisk and Crew. Or maybe it was Chara this time, hell if he knew. Or cared. Either way, all those dirty glitches were going to die.

He started walking. The town seemed deserted, except for the occasional eerie flutter of drapes in windows as he passed, and once he _swore_ he heard a hiss coming from a drain pipe. He was starting to get more nervous now. This place was really creeping him out. Man, he just wanted to find the glitches, kill ‘em, and get back. Blueberry was probably wondering where he was at this point.

Suddenly, there was a flash of blue light from a second-story window in the building to his left. Bingo. He grinned, and walked into the building. As he approached, he noticed small silver plaque on the building that read “ _Night Vale Community Radio, Est. xxx007_." Well. He pushed on the doors, expecting them to swing open, but they didn’t budge. He frowned, and leaned all his weight into them, grunting slightly with the effort. Shit, they must be locked. He heard a scuffle behind him and whirled around, seeing a bike roll up with a teenager in a purple T-shirt. He backed up, prepared to fight, but the teen only glanced at him, then walked up to the door, and pulled a knife out of his pocket. He took another step back in shock. Was this Chara? It didn’t look like them—the teen quickly sliced open his own finger, and stuck the knife back in his pocket. Then the teen dragged their bloody finger across both doors, and they opened with the sound of shifting sand. He gaped. What the hell?! The teen strode through the doors, and he followed, slipping into the building just before the doors sealed themselves behind him. The teen went to stand behind a reception desk, picking up a phone and speaking some weird language into it before flinching and putting on a green headband. The teen then set down the receiver and glanced at him.

“Uhm, are you here to see Cecil?” the teen asked, and he shook his head. There wasn’t an Undertale Character named Cecil, was there? He didn’t remember any. He grinned.

“Nah, I gotta see someone else.” He started walking past the desk, and the teen reached out, grabbing his hood to stop him.

“hey mister, you can't just—KKRRCCHH!!” the teen flailed as blue strings wrapped around his neck, lifting him off the ground and choking him.

“Do _not_ touch me.” He growled, and the teen glowered at him.

“You—don’t—ERK—scare me, I’m a—HURK— _NVCR INTERN!_ Ha, fine, go ahead!” the teen shouted. He glared at the teen for a solid twenty seconds but the teen merely glared back at him. Huh. Tough kid. Finally, he shrugged, and with a flick of his wrist, the strings retracted. He had bigger fish to fry. He sauntered down the hallway, looking for the stairs. The teen started scribbling on a piece of paper with wax, and folded it into a paper plane, then disappeared around a corner. He grinned, anticipating the rush that would come with another eradicated glitch. Maybe he could grab some chocolate from this AU for the next Undernovela binge with Blueberry. Ah, there were the stairs.

_I’m coming for ya, you filthy glitches._

He climbed the stairs quickly. He couldn’t have Sans teleporting out or whatever he did. He got to a hallway at the top of the stairs, and found it rather dark. He glanced up, and all the ceiling lights were…leaking. Some sort of green slime was creeping out of them, but instead of dripping to the ground, it clung to the ceiling, pulsating slightly. Okay, that was super creepy. Moving on. He kept walking, his footsteps loud as avalanches in the unnatural quiet of the hallway. Well, it wasn’t _completely_ quiet, he could hear the muted drone of a man’s voice through a door at the end of the hallway. Well, that didn’t sound like Sans. So, the skeleton must be through the other door in the hallway, then. That door was…well, it was made entirely of rough-hewn stone, and there were dark, rusty stains all across it, with strange runes etched into it. The words “Station Management” were painted across the wall next to it in what looked like coffee. He frowned, thoroughly weirded out, but he had a job to do. He gripped the oddly normal doorknob, and twisted it, pushing the door open.

Sans...was not in there. Sans wasn’t in there, that wasn’t Sans, that _wasn’t Sans that’s not Sans, oh nonononono THAT’S NOT SANS ITS NOT HIM NONONONO GET OUT THAT’S NOT SANS SANS ISN’T IN THERE NO NO NONONONONONO GETOUTGETOUTGETOUT ERRORERRORERRORNOTSANSNOTSANSNOT--_

He slammed the door shut and took a few unsteady steps backwards until his back collided with the wall and stayed there, pressing himself against it in an attempt to get away from...whatever that had been ( _not Sans, not Sans, no no no!)._ His bones were trembling and glitching violently, his soul was pounding, and he could hear his breath in his ears. H had never before wanted so much to just curl up on the floor and wait for the end. He felt like his head had been filled with the truth, so much truth, that it had all dissolved into fear and drained out his eyesockets. Eventually, he gathered himself enough to stand up (since when had he sunk to the floor?) and move on. He had a job to do, and like hell was a little existential bullshit gonna stop him.

All he had to do was add that to the long list of “Things that I will Never Think About Again”, and he was golden. No problemo. Nope. He was fine. Just. Fine.

And hey, at least he knew where Sans was now, ( _not there, not there, that’s not Sans, it’s not, nonono--SHUT UP_ ) as there was only one other door in the hallway. And if Sans wasn’t in there ( _not there not there--I SAID SHUT UP GODDAMNIT)_ then it stood to reason he was behind door #2. He had seen the flash of blue light from the street, on this level of this building, so he _had_ to be there. He kept walking, the darkness intensifying with each echoing step until all that was left of his admittedly bad vision was a glowing red “on air” sign. He stood in front of the door, listening to the muted voice coming from the other side, trying to get the glitching under control. He had a certain image to keep up, after all.

He took a deep breath, and pushed the door open.

_“—and Old Woman Josie claimed that there was, in fact, no reason for the asparagus to be doing that. Now, listeners, I’m not so sure that—oh.”_

He froze. The room was dark, except for a desk lamp on the lone desk in the middle of the room, at which sat…a man? The man (?) was looking at him with mild curiosity in his lavender eyes, violet tattoos swirling around the skin of his exposed forearms. But he wasn’t looking at those. No, he was staring in absolute terror at the pulsing darkness behind him.

“Hello, there, _listeners it seems that I have a visitor to my studio._ How can I help you?” the man (?) asked, but he was frozen. The darkness was twisting around itself, tentacles pushing against the boundary of light, twisting along the floor and watching him with eyes that didn't exist but saw everything.

 _“It seems that our mysterious visitor isn’t much of a talker. But that’s okay._ ” The man’s (?) voice was deep and smooth, and seemed to vibrate in tandem with the very air around him, melding with the very atoms of the air until he was choking on words and fear and oblivion. _Not here--_ Oh. Oh, god.

No, there was no god. _Not here, he’s not--_ There never would be. They were alone.

The darkness, the light, they were one and the same but so different.

It was going to swallow him whole, drown him in terror and dread and guilt and what was he doing? How could he do this? How could this exist? Did it matter? _That isn’t Sans--_ There was no life. Death was an illusion. _NOT HERE  HE’S NOT HERE THAT’S NOT--_ The holograms were organs, the blood was code, the code was a lie, he was nothing but a slip of the pen of the universe, he was going to die _NOT SANS NOT SANS_ but he was never alive to begin with. The end was near, the blinding light would swallow the dark and the planet lit by no sun would demand its sacrifice _THAT’S NOT SANS NOT HERE NOT HERE IT’S NOT HIM NONONO_ , and he would fail and fail and fail. He could feel his bones melting, he could hear his soul screaming, struggling against the relentless dark, visceral _NO NO NO NO_ and ancient _NONONONONOGETOUTGETOUTGETOUT_ and eternal—

NO NO NO. NOPE. NO. DONE. DONE WITH THIS BULLSHIT. FUCK THIS.

He was done with this fucked-up WHATEVER this universe was. He was done. Fuck it. He tore open a new window, and launched himself through it into the blinding white brightness, unable to stop the scream ripping from his throat as he sealed it behind him as fast as he could. Once that _horror_ of a universe was gone, he finally collapsed, leaning against nothing and panting, his bones glitching and shaking until he was _all over the place_ and it took Blueberry three whole days to bring him back.

.o.O.o.

_“Well, listeners. I’m not really sure who that was, or how he got in there, but Station Management is making some pretty satisfied sounds, so I think that we won’t be seeing him again. He seemed to disappear into some sort of…rift. It was rather pixelated, like that old videogame, Oregon Trailblazers? It’s not here anymore, I think he closed it behind him. I can’t even tell you what he looked like, listeners, because the lights went out right before he opened the door. But he looked rather frightened. He must be very wise. Or, possibly, insane.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Hahaha so that was a thing! Yes! A thing! That is what that was!  
> I honestly don't even know if that was any good, (it wasn't even edited properly) so lemme know, 'kay? thanks.  
> And to those of you waiting on the Neighbors fic, I'm workin' on it, I promise.


End file.
